Chapter 15: Cocaine Cause 05

Zhou Yishen had wanted to help her with her back and cover the wounds, but Ye Qiao said that there was a scar, and she took off her shirt. Zhou Xiaoshen is not a self-denying person. She is taken off by her, and she smiles slowly and enters the topic: "First cut the line."
The line of sight fell back to her shapeful chest: "The distribution of pain nerves in each person is different. The part of your chest is very sensitive-" His tail picked it.
Ye Qiao is convinced that he is deliberately following this: "--Is it OK?"
She turned a deaf ear to his increasingly explicit flirtation: "Yes."
"pattern?"
"Wu Zi said that he can only listen to you."
Zhou Yan deep smiled. Ye Qiao was quietly lying, and the functions of the body all provided thinking. She was sensitive to all his voices, thinking in her heart, feeling that he smiled like a desert plant, and thrived and reflected the loneliness of the yellow sand.
But the laughter is clear, and she caresby her carelessly: "Ye Qiao, this is a lifetime."
She is quite comfortable: "There are too many things in my life, and there are not a few things that I have."
Zhou Yan deep reflected the pattern in his mind and said, "Well, don't regret it." The machine was quickly put in his hands. He put on latex gloves and prepared her mentally. "The first step is more painful. Can you endure?" ?"
Ye Qiao said: "Yes."
The pain of the secant is within her tolerance.
His technique is very skillful, the cold needle cuts a piece of cloth called skin, and the edge of the line drawn by the wound is just a faint red, no bleeding. The sharp pain becomes a numbness after a long time, and the nerve only knows that it is still hurting.
Ye Qiao closed his eyes indifferently, breathing faster than usual, and comforting some kind of enthusiasm.
She swallowed and said, "Have you studied painting?"
"I have learned all about tattoos."
"I said Chinese painting."
Zhou Yishen was silent: "How do you see it?"
Ye Qiao is very determined: "The way you hold the needle is different."
The needle pierced the left chest, and the leaves were inhaled with a sigh of coolness.
He slowed down his tone and distracted her attention like a child: "Are you very good at drawing?"
"No." Her voice was still tight, but she tried to calm down. "My father will paint."
"The painter?" There is not much doubt in the tone.
"Yes."
He admired: "The book is fragrant."
However, the chat is still unable to disperse more and more intense pain, and many embarrassing pictures are spinning around.
I don't know how long it took, the moment the needle tip left the skin, as if was saved.
Ye Qiao breathed a sigh of relief and gasped.
The night is dark to the deepest, and the clouds are dense. I didn't know when it was raining outside the window, and she was so cold and sweaty that she didn't even notice it.
The rain is cool. Ye Qiao got up in the bathrobe and got up, and the window without the curtain was facing the deserted beach. The glass reflects the tattoo on her chest, only a vague outline, tangled vine branches, like a snake that spreads over the thorns.
Zhou Wei deeply admired his work - never perfect.
He remembered when he followed Xu Xuan to learn painting. It was still very small, and I heard that his teacher was a very high painter. This is indeed the case, until later became the most prestigious master of painting in contemporary times. A painting can be sold at a high price in Hong Kong auction house. Xu Wei is still obsessed with art, and does not admire fame and fortune. All the proceeds from the auction are donated. Undeducted paintings.
Little is known, this daughter of the idiot has a body that can be used as a scroll.
The pattern has not been colored yet. However, Ye Qiao's lips are already white, the heart rate is getting higher, and the organs are gradually tightening.
She poured the tablets with her hand into the palm of her hand, and a cup of water was handed to her. She said thank you at the moment of almost suffocating.
Zhou Yan calmly gave her the fact: "If you don't immediately fog after secant, you need to wait for 75 days. The wounds will fall off and will not affect the pattern."
Ye Qiao and the water swallowed the medicine, the throat was still tight, and he shook his head and squeezed out four words: "Tonight is finished."
He refused: "There is a danger of prostration and shock."
Ye Qiao did not insist.
Zhou Yanshen looked at the location of her heart scar and asked: "Is the pain in the surgery or the pain now?"
Ye Qiao's face is ugly, cold sweaty, and the voice is very weak: "There was an anesthetic at that time."
Zhou Yishen said: "You can feel it when you are too strong."
Ye Qiao’s nephew was bleak and said:
It hurts at that time.

The pain is not a knife, it is something else.
The moisture coming in through the window slowly erodes the temperature on the skin.
Ye Qiao wrapped his thin robes, and the whole body was wet with cold sweat. He finally gave up his own resistance and said: "When I was lying down, I remembered a lot of feelings at that time. When the anesthesia was not fully effective. I am lying on the operating table, my heart wants to be unsuccessful in surgery. People are only clean when they die, and some people who are not clean can also be clean because they are dead."
She became confused and didn't know who she was talking to: "But I think, I must live. Or I am sorry for too many people, I can't stand this."
This is the case until now. She is as cautious as she is carrying her mission, so she is so eager to destroy and die.
Zhou Weishen helped her wrap her robes on her body: "Who is your heart?"
"A prisoner of death. Deliberately killing, shooting. I donate the heart to me." Ye Qiao hair was soaked in sweat, stuck on the pale face, like just drenched the rain, murmured, "is a very kind People."
Zhou Haoshen did not speak for a long time, took out the smoke from his pocket and ordered one.
His side face is like a gray cat, his eyes are bright, but others can't walk in.
Ye Qiaotou did not dislike him smoking, quietly looked at it for a while and said, "What else, give me one."
Zhou Yanshen did not give her.
He stood by the window of the rain, and looked at her innocently as she walked toward him. The rendering of the smoke makes this picture like a movie shot.
Ye Qiao is wearing a white cotton bathrobe, like her, cold and comfortable, wrapping the slender limbs tightly, revealing only a long, white neck. She walked over to him, arms around his narrow waist, and the thin lips came up to share the smoke in his mouth.
Her front shackles are firmly sealed, but he knows that there are no bras and no restraints.
The white porcelain-like skin reappeared in front of his eyes, smooth and delicate, and it seemed to leave a trace when it was lightly rubbed. Lingering.
The sound of rain is growing, like a flood, like .
His fingertips trembled unconsciously.
Everything seems to be very logical. Japanese tattooists sometimes even offer special services to caress to relieve the pain of tattooing. Emotional desire is an excellent narcotic drug that can teach people to forget the pain, whether it is past or present.
But he can't forget it.
Forgotten kisses and caresses, the belt of the bathrobe can not withstand the desire, a few will be scattered. Zhou Yanshen suddenly loosened her and gathered her robes that slipped down to cover the white and beautiful clavicle.
Ye Qiao looked at him erratically, and the wet eyes were puzzled. She can feel that he also thinks clearly.
Zhou Yushen spared her squatting, helped her to wear a belt, and put her chin on her shoulder, breathing deeply: "After eating the medicine, rest well."
Ye Qiao frowned, unbelievable, and threatening.
Zhou Yan deep smiled and coughed out a cigarette: "What time is the plane tomorrow?"
"Three points." Ye Qiao replied mechanically, the body wrapped in cloth gradually warmed up, but the scorpion was suddenly cold.
Zhou Yanshen's fingers tied her for a knot, even a kiss on her earlobe, and laughed low: "I will miss you."